


the beat of my heart (it's in your hands)

by WhatIsAir



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Idiots in Love, M/M, actually everybody playing matchmaker, bit of angst, bit of crack, but mostly crack, natasha playing matchmaker, tony playing matchmaker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:03:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4274532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatIsAir/pseuds/WhatIsAir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce gapes. "Then why all of this -" he gestures, encompassing the sofa, the sheet, Bucky's nakedness, "- what was the point?"<br/>"Oh, Stevie gets distracted by my clothes, if I wear any," Bucky pipes up matter-of-factly, turning his head to look at Bruce, "It's all the colours."</p><p>Or, 5 times Steve and Bucky were unnecessarily touchy-feely with each other, and 1 time when they were perfectly justified in their touchy-feeliness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the beat of my heart (it's in your hands)

Bucky isn't sure when he realizes he's doing it. (Or, rather - he's perfectly aware he's been doing it. He just hadn't realized it's that obvious.) So when Tony leans over a snoring Clint on the sofa and says, "So, when were you two planning on telling us?", Bucky maybe kind of panics and immediately goes into denial. 

"Tell you what?"

 

"Y'know," and here Tony leans in even closer, completely disregarding the bowl of popcorn nestled in Clint's lap, "About you and Steve."

 

Bucky feels his eyebrows furrow. "What about me and Steve?"

 

Tony lets out a put-upon sigh, and nudges Clint awake. 

 

"Hm?" the archer grunts, not at all happy to be woken up. "What is it, Stark?"

 

Tony jabs a pointed finger in Bucky's direction. "Will you tell Robocop over there what exactly he hasn't seen fit to share with the rest of the class?"

 

"Hm?" Clint mumbles again, before Tony's words register. He instantly perks up, "Oh, that. Yeah," he turns sideways on the sofa so he's facing Bucky, "How long have you and Cap been fucking?" 

 

Bucky feels his eyebrows arch so high he thinks they're in danger of disappearing underneath the bangs he no longer has. "What," he says slowly, "could possibly make you think Steve and I are -" he settles for a lewd gesture that for some reason cracks Tony up. 

 

"Dude," Tony says, once he's regained his breath, "The way you two look at each other? Not to mention the fact that you're always touching. Oh, and how about that time you were  _in the shower together,_  for God's sake!"

 

Bucky feels his cheeks flush. "That was  _one time_! I had a broken wrist - how was I supposed to do anything?"

 

"Uh-huh," Tony smirks, "Broken wrist. Of course. Whatever you say, Buck."

 

"Don't call me that," Bucky snaps, getting to his feet. 

 

"Alright, princess," Tony shouts after his retreating back. 

 

Bucky pauses, swivels round, swipes the bowl of popcorn from Clint ("Hey!" Tony shouts. Bucky gives him the finger.) and leaves the room. 

 

He goes to his floor (yes, he has an entire floor. Thanks, Stark) and flops down onto his bed. He wonders when exactly he had gotten so easy to read, because he thought he'd been  _subtle_  about his feelings for Steve, dammit. 

 

\- 1 -

Tony's the first one to pick up on anything at all, because he likes to think he's got an eye for things like that. ("No, you just like sticking your nose into other people's business," Natasha tells him, in no uncertain terms. Tony politely tells her to piss off.)

 

Cap and Barnes are seated at opposite ends of the kitchen table, and Tony's (not) listening in from his spot by the coffee machine.

 

"Pass me the pancakes, would you?" Steve mumbles around a mouthful of scrambled egg. 

 

Barnes does, and Tony tries (he really does) not to notice the way Barnes is biting his lip and staring at Steve from beneath his lashes as he hands over the pancakes. Their hands brush as Steve takes the plate, and Tony  _swears_  Barnes' whole body leans into it, into Steve's touch. 

 

"Thanks, Buck," Cap says, reaching across the table to pat Barnes' hand and positively beaming at him, like pancake-passing is a skill possessed only by a rare few. Tony finds himself torn between laughing at them and telling them to take their flirting elsewhere. 

 

He settles for clearing his throat. "You can reach his hand but you couldn't reach the damn pancakes?"

 

He expects Steve to flush beetroot red and stammer incoherently. Instead Steve raises his chin and glares at him rather defiantly. "No, not without Bucky's help, I couldn't."

 

Barnes chooses this moment to look over his shoulder at Tony and smirk, and  _God_ , it's only 9 in the morning but Tony can already tell it's going to be one of those 'three coffees before noon' kind of days. He doesn't know how else he's going to make it through. 

 

"Right, I'll leave you to it, then," he announces, grasping the handle of his coffee mug tightly as he backtracks out of the ( _his_ ) kitchen. Great. Now he's being eaten out of house and home. 

 

A glance back shows Steve and Barnes talking in hushed tones, heads bent together over the table. 

 

Steve hasn't taken his hand off Barnes' yet, not that Barnes seems to mind. 

 

Tony, not looking where he's going, walks into the doorframe and spills half his coffee. He stares at the stain slowly spreading on his carpeted floor mournfully. 

 

"Why do I even try," he sighs at nobody in particular. 

 

"Perhaps because you haven't yet realized what 'futility' means," Jarvis pipes up, unhelpfully. "...sir," his AI adds at the last moment.

 

\- 2 -

Clint prides himself on being keenly observant, while remaining unobserved himself. It's one of the things that comes with being an archer. It wouldn't do to have the target see you before you could eliminate him, now would it?

 

He's perched (maybe the wrong choice of verb, given the amount of teasing Tony would probably give him) on the windowsill, appearing for all intents and purposes to be dozing off. 

 

He's actually on a bit of a reconnaissance mission.

 

_"Why can't you do it yourself?" Clint hissed, annoyed. "I have better things to do than stalk two supersoldiers to satisfy your frankly invasive sense of curiosity."_

_"Don't get your feathers in a twist, birdbrain," Tony huffed, holding his hands up in (what he probably thought was) a placatory gesture. "Come on, do this for me and I'll upgrade your collapsible bow to a better prototype."_

_"Fine," Clint hissed, "But I'm only doing this for the bow."_

Which is why Clint's currently pretending to be asleep in the same room where Steve and Bucky are lounging together on the sofa, doing his best to remain inconspicuous while he tries to determine the nature of the two supersoldiers' relationship. (Truth be told, he's curious, too. He's wondered whether these two ever got up to anything back when they were living together in 30s Brooklyn.)

 

It's been approximately 45 minutes since Bucky wandered into this room and flopped unceremoniously down to lie on the sofa. It's also been approximately 44 minutes since Steve wandered into the room, said "Move, Buck", to which Bucky had simply grunted, leaving Steve to shrug, lift Bucky's feet so he could sit, and replace Bucky's feet in his lap. 

 

For the ensuing 43 and a half minutes until now, the two on the sofa have done nothing other than sit in a comfortable silence. (Similarly, for the past 43 and a half minutes, Clint's been doing his best not to fidget from an increasingly sore ass because he's still supposed to be sleeping, dammit.)

 

Then - finally,  _finally_  - Bucky speaks. 

 

"You look tense, Stevie. You still sore from last night?"

 

His years of training (and ingrained sense of discipline, he likes to think) is the only thing that stops Clint from toppling to the floor. As it is, he brain goes offline for a moment and briefly he considers making a break for it through the nearest door (only three feet away) but Steve's already talking. 

 

"Yeah, I am, a bit," he admits ruefully.

 

There's a moment's silence. Then - "Want me to massage the spot for you?" Bucky asks nonchalantly. 

 

Clint's eyes fly open of their own volition because  _surely_  they don't mean to -  _here_? He barely registers the grateful 'yeah' from Steve as he chances a glance towards the sofa and feels the blood drain from his face. 

 

They've shifted so Bucky's sitting upright, with Steve on the floor between Bucky's legs, facing the sofa. Clint mentally braces himself to see more of these two than he'd ever bargained for. 

 

Then Bucky places his hands on Steve's shoulders and starts kneading. (For the second time in the last five minutes, Clint's brain shuts down as it does a mental double take.) Steve sighs contentedly and immediately lays his head down on Bucky's thigh, gazing up at him adoringly, and Clint despairs at what his life has come to. A spy and assassin of his calibre, reduced to spying on his teammates to wrangle a few favours from Tony fucking Stark. It's outrageous. 

 

Then Bucky digs the heel of his hand in, hard, and Steve goes boneless, practically  _melting_  against Bucky, humming quietly in the back of his throat. 

 

Bucky grins. "That the spot?" He presses harder and Steve actually fucking  _purrs_. (Clint mentally stocks up on his arsenal of blackmail-able material. He _really_ hopes Jarvis is recording this.)

 

"You got me good last night, Buck," Steve mumbles, voice muffled into the fabric of Bucky's sweatpants, and Clint almost chokes on air. 

 

"Yeah, well," Bucky says evenly, "That's only cause you let me win, idiot. You don't have to do that - I'm perfectly capable of kicking your ass in combat, thank you very much."

 

Steve snorts. "Sure, Buck. If you say so," he says, nodding agreeably. He yelps when Bucky digs his fingers in unnecessarily hard. 

 

  
_In combat_ , Clint mouths to himself, silently, shaking his head. Of course. Looks like Tony's going to be disappointed. 

 

He slips off the windowsill and makes his way over to the door as stealthily as he can manage (which, considering what he does for a living, is saying something). 

 

Steve and Bucky are still too busy arguing over who does better in a fight (and now they're comparing _stamina_ , and Clint doesn't think he can take it anymore) to notice his departure. 

 

\- 3 -

"Hey," Steve greets him, as Bruce walks into their shared living room. 

 

"He-" he starts to say, but at the sight that greets him, the word dies in his throat. 

 

Steve is sat cross-legged on the polished floor, his back against the coffee table. His sketchbook is open in his lap, and he's drawing at a furious pace. Bucky is reclining on the sofa, propping himself up on his metal elbow so his front faces Steve. Besides a sheet draped rather artistically over his legs and groin, he doesn't appear to be wearing much of anything else. 

 

Bruce decides not to dwell on the matter any further because he's sure that if he does, he's only going to give himself a massive headache. So instead he squares his shoulders and marches towards the bookshelf in the corner of the room in search of a particular index Tony's asked for. 

 

"Hey, Bruce," Bucky calls as he passed the sofa, and Bruce very nearly trips over the floor's smooth surface.  _  
_  


 

"Heh - hey," he says without turning around. He pushes his glasses further up his nose and starts scanning the spines of the books.  _I'm a man on a mission_ , he tells himself, keeping his back resolutely turned,  _A man on a mission. A man on a-_  


 

"Buck, move your arm a little," he hears Steve say. "And stop slouching."

 

There's the slight rustling of fabric as Bucky presumably obeys, followed by some thirty seconds of Steve's pencil scratching away. Then -

 

"Can you lift your leg up a bit - no, the other one - no, that's too much - I  - hold on."

 

Bruce hears the sound of Steve's sketchbook being set down, and when he risks a glance over his shoulder (the temptation simply too much to bear) he sees Steve with a hand on Bucky's thigh - _under the sheet_  - and the other on Bucky's chest.

 

When Steve's arranged Bucky's pose to one of his liking, he steps back and surveys his handiwork. "Hm, yes. Just about -" he muses, tapping his fingers against his mouth in thought, "Now if we just -" and here he reaches out and tugs the sheet further down so the V of Bucky's hipbones is exposed, "and here -" he rucks the sheet up to Bucky's upper thighs. 

 

"There. Perfect," he announces, settling himself back down against the coffee table.

 

Bruce stares as Steve resumes drawing and Bucky goes back to being an unmoving statue, looking supremely unconcerned at having just been felt up by his 'best friend'. It takes another ten seconds for Bruce to realize his hand's been poised in the air in front of a book for all this time. Bruce quickly retracts it and continues book-hunting, trying not to be distracted by thoughts of what is taking place across the room from him. 

 

He's so busy trying to look busy that Steve's words don't register at first. "Bruce?  _Bruce_ ," Steve calls from his spot on the floor. 

 

"Yeah?" he turns around, and spares a moment's thought as to what traumatized expression he has on his face right now. 

 

"Do you think his jaw needs to be sharper, or is this fine?" 

 

Steve is waving the sketchbook in his general direction, so Bruce trudges reluctantly across the length of the room and peers over Steve's shoulder at the page. 

 

"What," he says flatly, gaping at Steve's sketch. 

 

"Hm?" Steve swivels his head around to look at him, confusion plain on his face. "What's the matter?"

 

"You've only drawn his face!" Bruce says, praying to a god he doesn't believe in a for patience that doesn't come. 

 

Steve frowns. "Ye-es?" he draws it out, like he thinks maybe Bruce is being a little slow. 

 

Bruce gapes. "Then why all of  _this_  -" he gestures, encompassing the sofa, the sheet, Bucky's nakedness, "- what was the point?"

 

"Oh, Stevie gets distracted by my clothes, if I wear any," Bucky pipes up matter-of-factly, turning his head to look at Bruce, "It's all the colours."

 

"Right," Bruce says, rather faintly. He decides not to ask why Steve thought it would be a good idea to have a scantily clad Bucky draped over their furniture like a goddamn Greek statue when he's only drawing his face and neck. _Colours, my ass_. Instead he backs away from the sofa and starts edging his way out of the room. 

 

"Wait -" Steve calls after him. "What about the jaw?"

 

"It's - it's fine, yeah," Bruce mutters. "Just - perfect."

 

Steve beams at him and bends his head back down over his work. 

 

Bruce turns when he's almost out in the corridor, because he's just remembered he still hasn't found the book he's supposed to have been looking for. 

 

Steve's scooted closer to the sofa now, head still bent over his sketchbook, and Bucky's free hand is carding through his hair gently. 

 

Bruce smiles despite having just been rather severely traumatized, and leaves the room. Tony can go find that book himself, if he's that desperate. 

 

-

"You," Tony says, waggling an accusing finger at him, "You should've stayed for the whole show!"

 

"What show?" Bruce asks mildly. He doesn't look up from his tablet. 

 

" _The_  show. The Cap 'n Barnes show," Tony gestures expansively, waving his half-eaten pizza slice around to emphasize his point. "You are officially the worst undercover spy. Ever. You're fired."

 

"I didn't know I was supposed to be spying on anyone," says Bruce, distractedly, still poking away at his tablet (his  _Stark_  tablet, no less, because Tony deemed Apple products inferior and made it his personal mission to purge every last one from the tower). 

 

The only thing that stops Tony from face-palming is the pizza in his hand.  "Well, why did you think I sent you into that room?" he says incredulously. "If I'd needed a book I would've asked Jarvis to download it for me."

 

"Ah," Bruce says. "Well, maybe you should've made that clearer."

 

"Ugh," Tony groans, though whether that's out of exasperation or because of the huge bite of pizza he's just stuffed into his mouth is unclear. 

 

\- 4 -

Thor is on a quest. 

 

Granted, it's not anything grand like his escapades to Jotunheim, or Vanaheim. There are no cities to sack, no plunder to be taken home, and no feasts to be had by the end of this quest. But the Asgardian council is dull, their meetings overbearing, and besides, Thor hasn't had the chance to be on Midgard in so long. He hopes to visit Jane before the day is out. 

 

"What am I to do, exactly?" he speaks as if into thin air, though he knows the earpiece - the mic - in his ear will transmit his words. 

 

"Just follow them, and if they get up to anything, gimme a shout," Tony says on the other end. 

 

Thor dips his head in assent, then remembers Tony cannot see him. "Yes," he adds, hastily. 

 

He hears a crackle in his ear, and the next voice he hears is decidedly un-Tony and feminine. 

 

"...can't believe you recruited the crown prince of Asgard into your harebrained scheme!" the voice is yelling heatedly. Thor hears Tony's voice in the background, though his is more subdued, and sounds rather pained. 

 

"Lady Potts!" Thor grins, "It is good to hear your voice. How have you been of late?"

 

"Thor? Thor," Lady Potts says, briskly, "Listen - whatever it is Tony's asked you to do - you don't have to do it. He's just being his annoying, meddling self." 

 

"With all due respect, my lady," says Thor, "I would much rather be doing this than attending council. And if this ends in Steven and Bucky's happiness - then all the merrier!"

 

Thor hears more crackling, and the sounds of two people wrestling for control of the mic, before Tony speaks again. "Go - just - go," he pants, "And don't forget the pictures!" he yells, before the line cuts off and Thor is left with static in his ear. 

 

He winces, removes the earpiece (accidentally breaking it in the process) and makes his way through the park, following the distant figures of Steven and Bucky. 

 

Thor stops when they stop, leaning against a nearby tree with his hood pulled low. ("Subtlety is a thing that exists here on Earth," Tony had explained, throwing the hoodie and jeans at him, "We don't need you dashing in there with your cape flaring and the thunder booming. Or you'll scare those two off.")

 

Steven and Bucky have laid out a blanket on the grass in the shade of a nearby tree. Bucky is sprawled on his front, a book in hand, and Steven is sitting with his back to the tree. He appears to be asleep. 

 

As Thor watches, Bucky rolls over onto his back, about to say something to Steven. When he sees that he's asleep, Bucky smiles softly (Jane smiles at Thor like that sometimes). Bucky puts down his book, removes his jacket and drapes it over Steven's front. Thor doesn't miss the way Bucky smoothes Steven's hair back from his forehead, or the way his hands linger on Steven's shoulders long after he's arranged the jacket so it doesn't fall.

 

Thor turns his attention to the camera phone in his hands, because Tony said he wanted 'photographic evidence', whatever that means. He fumbles with the screen, but it refuses to co-operate. The camera function, when he turns it on, remains stubbornly blank. 

 

Bucky, when Thor looks back over at him, has abandoned his book and is now lying with his head in Steven's lap. Thor watches as it's his turn to doze off. 

 

Shortly after, Steven wakes up, blinking blearily, and at the sight of Bucky in his lap, he smiles down at him, shrugs off the jacket, drapes it over Bucky's sleeping form, then drapes an arm over Bucky's chest, almost protectively. 

 

Thor really, really misses Jane. It's been far too long; him busy with Asgard's court affairs, her busy with her research. 

 

Seeing Steven and Bucky like this brings an ache to his chest, makes him long as acutely for Jane as he does for his lost brother and mother. 

 

"Heimdall, old friend," Thor tips his head back, squints at the sky. "Take me to the Lady Jane."

 

It's only when the sky opens up above him and he's transported away in a whirlwind of swirling dust and scattered leaves that Thor remembers Tony's warning to be 'subtle'. Oh well. There's always the chance that Steven and Bucky missed the way the heavens split apart not twenty feet from them. 

 

-

"I just thought, since Thor completely ditched the mission, that you would-" Tony starts, placatingly.

 

"What Steve and Bucky do in their own time is none of your business, Stark," Natasha says, and although her tone is mild, the severity of the glare she levels at him has Tony unconsciously backing up a few steps. 

 

His back hits the fridge. Natasha smiles sweetly at him, reaches across the counter and steals Tony's waffle. 

 

"Hey, that's mine," Tony protests, though he's loathe to approach anywhere within arm's reach of a potentially pissed off Natasha. 

 

"Not anymore," Natasha tells him, then proceeds to steal Tony's cup of coffee, sitting untouched on the counter between them. 

 

Tony throws his hands up in exasperation. "What does a man have to do to get some help around here?"

 

"Perhaps you could try making your own coffee for once," Jarvis chimes in, before adding rather belatedly, "sir."

 

Tony decides his AI is definitely in need of a reprogramming. And soon. 

 

\- 5 -

Natasha walks in on Steve and Bucky entirely by accident, because she's made it her business  _not_  to stick her nose into other people's business (unlike Stark, who seems to have made it his personal life goal to do just that). 

 

Nevertheless, one fateful night after a particularly gruelling mission involving the prevention of yet another alien invasion (this time on Brooklyn), Natasha goes into her en suite (courtesy of Stark, of course. He's good for _some_ things), towel in hand, and immediately backtracks into the hallway, because for whatever reason, Steve and Bucky are in her shower. Together. 

 

Despite herself, Natasha grins. The two geriatrics don't seem to have noticed her yet, so she pulls the door to, leaving it open just enough so she can see their reflection in the bathroom mirror, careful to remain hidden from view as she lingers behind the door. 

 

"... your wrist still hurt, Buck?" Steve is saying, concern plain on his features. He's standing behind Bucky, under the spray, and his hands are gently lathering soap into Bucky's hair.  

 

"Mm," Bucky says non-commitally, eyes closed. Steve's hands still in his hair and Bucky makes a soft noise of dissent, pushing his head back into Steve's touch. Steve chuckles and resumes his massaging of Bucky's scalp. 

 

When he's done, Steve steps aside so Bucky can stand under the spray. Once the shampoo's rinsed out, Bucky smoothes his hair back, shaking his head like a dog. 

 

Stray droplets land on Steve's face and Steve grins dopily (Natasha's fairly sure that's the correct approximation of what Steve's face is currently doing) at Bucky. "Want me to do your back?"

 

"Hm?" Bucky blinks the water out of his eyes. "Oh, yeah. Thanks."

 

Steve steps under the spray once more. He lathers up his hands and starts smoothing them down Bucky's back. From her vantage point, Natasha sees Bucky's whole body arch not-so-subtly into Steve's touch. Steve's Adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

 

When Steve starts kneading at Bucky's shoulders, his knees all but give out and he groans, bracing his metal hand against the shower wall. " _Ah_  - yeah, that's it - that's the spot. You're a saint, Stevie."

 

"It's the least I can do," Steve murmurs, hands still kneading as he moves closer, his lips close enough now to brush the shell of Bucky's ear. Bucky's whole body is tense, pulled taut as a bowstring. Natasha can see him almost vibrating with the effort it takes not to lean back against Steve's chest. 

 

Natasha has an increasingly strong urge to push Bucky back, or pull Steve forward, and close the distance between them, because really - the tension between them is so thick you could cut through it with a knife. 

 

Then Steve blinks and at the last moment, pulls back like he's only just realized that he's moved closer. Natasha inwardly groans. 

 

Steve clears his throat. "Um - your back's done." Rather belatedly, he removes his hands from Bucky's shoulders. 

 

Bucky startles at the loss of contact, and for a brief moment, his expression crumples and he looks young and vulnerable and stricken. Steve, of course, doesn't see it. 

 

But Natasha does. 

 

-

"We need to talk about Bucky," Natasha says, spinning to face Steve as soon as the door shuts behind them. 

 

"Bucky?" Steve asks, looking confused as to why she's dragged him from their training session to a storage closet on the other side of the tower for this conversation. 

 

"About last night," she clarifies, and although Steve flushes tellingly and immediately starts stammering, "I don't - what -", Natasha cuts through it with a crisp, "It was my shower you guys were in."

 

Steve's expression cycles through shock, horror, despair and horror so quickly Natasha almost laughs. She hastily wrestles her face back into what she hopes is a suitably solemn one for this conversation.

 

"...we must've gotten off on the wrong floor when we came back," Steve eventually mumbles, face still a brilliant red. Natasha's hand itches to reach for her cameraphone.

 

"My point is," Natasha says (relatively) gently, "Why do you think he had you  _help_ " and here she makes air-quotes around the word, "-him in the shower?"

 

"He broke his wrist on the op, how was he supposed to do anything?" Steve says, unnecessarily loudly. He doesn't look at Natasha.

 

"Yes, and it was perfectly fine by the time we got back here," Natasha snorts, "Supersoldier healing reflexes and all."

 

Steve's face, if possible, turns even redder. "I hadn't thought of that."

 

Natasha manages not to roll her eyes through sheer willpower. "You realize, even with his wrist broken, that he has a perfectly functioning metal arm?" 

 

Steve splutters indignantly, but no actual words form.

 

"He loves you," Natasha says bluntly, folding her arms and leaning back against the closed door.

 

A pained expression (not unlike the one she saw on Bucky, in the shower) crosses Steve's face before he manages to wrestle his emotions under control. "I love him, too," Steve starts, and Natasha inwardly celebrates before Steve ruins it by adding, "He's my best friend."

 

"I'm not talking about that," Natasha sighs, unfolds her arms, lets them hang by her sides. "I mean he  _loves_  you. And you're either too big an idiot to see it, or you're holding yourself back because of some misplaced sense of honour. Knowing you, I'd say the latter."

 

Steve bristles, drawing himself up to his full height. "Bucky's still hurting from what HYDRA's done to him, Nat!" he says furiously, "He doesn't  _know_  what he wants. I can't possibly - I can't take advantage of him when he's like this!" His hands curl unconsciously into fists, like all he wants is to beat every HYDRA operative who's ever laid a hand on Bucky to death.

 

Natasha arches an eyebrow. "Why don't you try  _asking_  him what he wants for once, instead of assuming. He is capable of making his own decisions, you know."

 

"I -" Steve starts, but Natasha's already opened the door and he's left standing alone in a too-small storage closet. 

 

+1

There's a knock on Bucky's door. 

 

"Can I come in?"  _Steve_.

 

Shit. Bucky sits up in his bed and frantically tries to flatten his hair into something less resembling a crow's nest. It doesn't work. 

 

Bucky sighs, flopping back down onto his bed and pulling the covers up. "Yeah," he says.

 

Steve cautiously pokes his head around the door. "Hey."

 

Bucky smiles, and hopes it's not as forced as he feels it is. "Hey." Then, when all Steve does is shuffle his feet awkwardly and look at the floor, Bucky huffs a laugh, scoots back on his bed and pats the mattress beside him, propping himself up on an elbow to face Steve. 

 

Steve takes the hint and sits. A beat of silence that seems to stretch on forever, then Steve speaks. "Tony said I'd find you in here sulking."

 

"I wasn't sulking," Bucky protests vehemently, frowning (although truth be told, that's exactly what he's been doing ever since the conversation with Stark). 

 

The side of Steve's face that Bucky can see from this angle lights up as he grins. "No, course you weren't," he agrees easily, and Bucky narrows his eyes. 

 

"You've got something to say, so spit it out, Rogers," he says, sitting up. The sheet falls into his lap, and Bucky doesn't miss the way Steve's eyes track over his bare chest, his torso, before flicking guiltily back up to his face. 

 

"I - uh," Steve's expression turns deadly serious, and Bucky steels himself for the worst. "I've been an idiot."

 

Bucky chuckles despite the sudden, rapid thrumming of his heart. "Yeah, you usually are," he agrees. 

 

Steve doesn't smile back. His eyes are fixed on a spot on the wall behind Bucky and he's clenching and unclenching his jaw.

 

Bucky waits. 

 

"I thought -" Steve swallows, clears his throat, tries again. This time the words come easier. "I thought there was no way you could possibly want me - especially after HYDRA - and I didn't want to push you into anything you didn't wanna do. I never meant to hurt you, Buck. I'm sorry."

 

Steve looks almost distraught, and he's still staring fixedly ahead, so Bucky inches forward and places a hand on Steve's leg, just above his knee. He jumps about a foot in the air, but at least he's looking at Bucky now, not past him. 

 

"We're both idiots," Bucky says, smoothing his thumb over Steve's jean-clad leg (it twitches under his touch), "I coulda told you, too. But I was - scared, I guess. Scared you'd say no. If I never said anything, at least I could pretend there was a chance you'd say yes, you know?" and now it's Bucky's turn to look down and away, his next words addressed to his own lap, "But if I asked, and you turned me down - Stevie, I don't think I could've gone on being just your friend, seeing you every day, pretending it never happened," Bucky smiles ruefully, "It woulda killed me."

 

Bucky squeezes his eyes shut.  _It still could_ , he thinks. And it's true: Steve's holding Bucky's heart in his hands, and his next words could potentially break it. 

 

"Oh,  _Buck_ ," Steve says brokenly, Bucky's heart clenches at the pain evident in his voice. 

 

Steve scoots infinitesimally closer on the bed, hands going to cradle Bucky's jaw, and Bucky's eyes fly open. 

 

Steve is looking at him like he's something precious, fragile, breakable. Bucky wants to tell him he's already broken, so whatever qualms Steve has about this, it hardly matters. 

 

Seconds pass and Steve is still looking at him, thumbs stroking lightly over his jaw. Then -

 

"Goddamit, Rogers!" Bucky bursts out, his pulse racing, "You gonna moon over me all night or are you gonna get your ass over here and kiss me like a man-"

 

The words are hardly out of his mouth before Steve is surging forwards. Bucky meets him halfway, tilting his head, and then they're kissing, one of Steve's hands sliding up to curl in Bucky's hair, the other planting itself firmly on his chest (over his heart). Bucky fists his hands in Steve's shirt, his mouth parting to allow Steve's tongue entrance, and  _God_ , but if this isn't what he's been waiting (hoping, yearning) for, for seventy years. 

 

Steve groans, almost helplessly, against Bucky's mouth, and Bucky starts pushing frantically at his shoulders. Steve pulls back to look at him, his blonde hair slightly mussed and a flush in his cheeks, and it takes every ounce of willpower Bucky possesses not to haul him back by the collar of his shirt and kiss him again. 

 

"Off, this needs to come off," Bucky says impatiently, hands going to the hem of Steve's T-shirt and tugging upwards. 

 

Steve obliges, lifting his arms so Bucky can yank the shirt up and off. Bucky discards said shirt rather unceremoniously onto the floor, kicks his legs free of the sheet he's tangled in and pulls Steve down to lie on top of him. 

 

"Mm, better," he murmurs, closing his eyes and tilting his head up for a kiss that doesn't come.

 

"Uh, Buck?" Steve says. He sounds like he's choking and Bucky opens his eyes, concerned. 

 

Steve is staring at Bucky. More accurately, his focus seems to be below the waist. 

 

  
_Oh_. Bucky feels his lips curving into a smirk. "Did I mention I sleep naked _all_ the time now?"

 

Steve growls (actually growls, and  _fuck_ , but that's hot) as he fairly crashes his mouth against Bucky's, their teeth knocking, their lips bruising, but neither of them care because bruises will fade, and cuts will heal, but Bucky's waited seven decades for this, for his love to be returned, and he'll be damned if he's going to wait one more second. 

 

Using his metal arm for leverage, he flips them over, reversing their positions. He breaks the kiss, sitting back on his haunches. When Steve reaches to unfasten his own belt, Bucky stops him, shimmying down the length of Steve's body so his mouth is poised over Steve's zipper. 

 

"Allow me," he murmurs, before deftly pulling the zipper down with his teeth. 

 

" _Fuck_ ," Steve says emphatically, head falling back onto the pillow, and Bucky ducks his head to hide his grin against Steve's crotch. 

 

"Maybe later," he quips, just because he can. 

 

Steve opens his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but Bucky chooses this moment to swallow him down without preamble. 

 

Steve's resulting shout must have carried all the way down to their training room in the basement. 

 

-

Outside in the hallway finds Tony, Bruce, Clint and Natasha, all with their ears pressed against Bucky's closed door. 

 

At Steve's shout Tony whoops as silently as he knows how and high-fives Bruce, who's smiling despite himself. Clint begrudgingly hands over a twenty to Natasha, who's grinning smugly. 

 

In the midst of a council meeting on Asgard, Thor thinks of his visit to Midgard, of Jane, of Steve and Bucky. 

 

He hopes they are happy. They deserve to be. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> y'all if you liked this lemme know what you thought and also feel free to suggest other 5+1s for me because i live for 5+1s
> 
> cookies all round and thanks for reading (:


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